


Tin Foil Stars

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:31:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Established Shoot prompt- The team's latest numbers are a couple of high school students and so Shaw and Root go undercover as chaperones to the numbers' prom. Root spends most of the night trying to get Shaw to dance with her bringing up the fact that she never got that magical prom night dance with the person she liked in high school. After they take care of the situation with the numbers, Shaw grabs Root and leads her out to the dance floor for a dance with the person she loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tin Foil Stars

“ _Kids_?” Shaw asks, walking over to Harold’s desk as he types on the computer. She leans her hands on it, peering over his shoulder at the three profiles on the screen. One is a lanky, strawberry-blonde boy with thick glasses and a crooked bow tie. The next is a girl around his age with long, black hair and piercing gray eyes that pop against dark makeup. The last is a boy with paper-white teeth and a deep copper tan, dark hair streaked with golden highlights. From the looks of it, the trio share nothing in common except for being seniors in the same high school.

“I’m afraid so,” Harold tells her, pulling a few things onto the screen. “And the worst part is, there are a multitude of threats to each, only none seem to overlap.” Shaw narrows her eyes at the screen as she reads each file.

The blonde one, named Jeremy Barns, is a senior with a 4.0 GPA- and a hearty amount of suspensions. “He’s hacked many powerful companies,” Harold tells her as she looks the photo over once more. “He was supposed to go to Juvenile Detention; however, the files were  _mysteriously_  wiped clean, and he was released without a day’s time.”

“Considering his computer skills, it doesn’t seem unlikely,” Root’s melodic voice carries into the subway station as she walks in. Shaw turns to look at her briefly before casting her gaze back to the screen. A moment later, she can feel an electric current surge up her right arm as Root comes to lean on the desk beside her. Harold looks between the two of them before turning back to the screen, pulling the girl’s records forward.  _Jenna States._

“Nothing  _too_  awful,” Harold tells them. “Just a few petty thefts at the mall, and she was caught buying alcohol with a fake ID.”

“Plenty of kids do that,” Shaw responds. “There’s got to be more to her than  _that_.” Harold gives her a slightly slanted frown, then moves on to the third.

“Well I guess we know who the high school heart throb is,” Root says, seeing the last of the numbers. Shaw sends a snide glare her way, but Harold nods.

* * *

 

“Indeed. Hanner Keets; a star athlete- football, baseball, lacrosse… but he seems to have a few sealed files.” Harold types rapidly, fingers nothing but white blurs over the black keys. A moment later, and his access is granted. “Oh my.” Shaw leans in to read. A moment later, she feels a warmth pressed to her right shoulder, trailing all the way down her back, and a presence comes right beside her face. With only her eyes, Shaw peers over, and sees Root angled forward as well. Her face is merely an inch from Shaw’s, and it seems to be the farthest thing from her. Their arms overlap as Root leans over her, and their legs touch down to the shoes. Root, feeling the heat of Shaw’s smoldering stare, looks over with affectionate eyes. Shaw gives her a small sneer before turning her attention back to the screen, trying to ignore Root’s remarkably close presence.

“Seems that our star has a bad habit,” Harold says, oblivious to the tension beside him. “Steroids mostly, but he’s also been caught on LSD and ecstasy from time to time… and killed his neighbor’s cat two years ago..”

“How is he still in the sports program?” Shaw asks, looking at the rather charming boy. On the outside, you would never know of the horrors lurking behind his Caribbean blue eyes.

“People like to win,” Root tells Shaw, breath tickling her ear. “And that’s all he does.”

“And colleges  _love_  him,” Harold adds as an abundance of acceptance letters flood his screen.

“Do you think he could have it in for them?” Shaw asks, and both turn to look at her. “Well, three numbers came up, and he’s the only one with aggressive tendencies. Say the dorky one hacked something and found out about Keet’s problems. Threatens to make it public- it would ruin his chances of getting scholarships.”

“But where does  _she_  fit in,” Root wonders, pointing at the overcast girl on the screen.

“That is just something the two of you will have to find out.” Harold says, pushing back from his chair. He begins walking to the subway car. “In the mean time, watch them; make sure no one is trailing them, or threa-”

“Oh, no  _way_ , Harold,” Shaw spits, rolling away from Root and standing to face him. “I’m a marksman,  _not_  a babysitter.”

“The sooner you protect them, the sooner they will be out of your hair,” Harold points out, and Shaw gives him a despicable eye roll. “Speaking of soon,” he walks towards them with two school identification badges. “You will be chaperoning their prom.” He hands them the laminated cards- impossible to tell the forgery.

“When is this  _prom_ , Harold?” Shaw asks sourly, stuffing the card into her back pocket. Harold slides up his sleeve, checking his watch.

“About three hours,” he responds with little interest, as if there is all the time in the world. Shaw can feel her stomach pulling into knots. “You should probably get going,” Harold adds, looking between the two of them. “You have a big night ahead of you.”

_______\ If Your Number’s Up /_______

Shaw smooths down her black, pinstripe pantsuit jacket and checks herself in the mirror.  _More dressy than I’d wanted, but it still seems under done_ , she tells herself, seeing the black high heel wedges met by the black and white pants. She pulls at her ponytail, making it tighter against her head. Originally, she’d planned on a dress. However, not wanting to show any enthusiasm for a mission she despised, swapped out for a pair of jeans and a shirt. Then, realizing how out-of-place she’d look in such attire, she went back through her closet a third time to find this. _A lot of work for this stupid dance,_  she mutters, walking out of her room and into the kitchen. She stops at the door frame, surprised.

At the island, she sees a familiar brunette sitting on a stool, eating a sandwich. She wears a dark dress with lace sleeves that come to her elbows. The dress itself is tight until the waist, where a wide, silky band gives way to a flowing, two layer bottom that touches her knees. The top layer is a lace that matches the sleeves, and the one below it is a black cloth matching the dress’s torso. She turns her head, revealing a coy smirk and shimmering eyes.

“Hey, Sweetie,” Root says, taking in Shaw’s shocked face. She looks at her clothing, then chews. “What, no dress?” She asks, a hint of disappointment in her words.

“What, no heels?” Shaw remarks with snappy annoyance, walking towards the island. Root looks down to her black flats with a smile.

“I decided to shake things up,” she replies, a deep smile coming to her face as she looks back up at Shaw. She stands across from Root, leaning in on the granite counter top. She can feel her heart picking up speed, and is pleased with the calm physique she maintains. Looking down, Shaw sees the half-eaten sandwich in Root’s hand.

“Wait, is that the one  _I_ made?” Shaw asks angrily, accusing eyes on Root.

“Yeah,” Root says, smug smile she can’t conceal coming to her face. “It’s really good, thanks for making it for me.”

“It wasn’t  _for_  you,” Shaw spits back with daggers for eyes, and Root gives her a small pout.

“Oh,” she says, then sticks the sandwich out for Shaw to take.

“What?  _No_ ,” Shaw says, voice repulsed and flustered as she looks at the sandwich, deep red lipstick stains on the bread. “I’m  _not_ -” her stomach lets off a deep grumble, and she purses her lips. After giving Root a smoldering glare, Shaw rips the sandwich from her hand. She flips it around to the untouched side and takes a bite, dismayed.

Root gives her an affectionate, toothy grin before standing. “Time to go,” she tells Shaw, giving the counter top a small pat, then walking to the door. Shaw chews angrily, but follows Root none the less.

“How’d you even get  _in_  here?” Shaw asks with her mouth full as Root pulls open the door. Root stops to look at Shaw, a sly glimmer in her eyes.  _How is it she’s still taller than me?_  Shaw fumes to herself.

“Simple,” Root replies with a small smirk. “I picked your lock.”

“It’d be easier if you just  _knocked_ ,” Shaw tells her, taking another bite of the sandwich.

“It’d be easier if you just gave me a  _key_ ,” Root counters with a smile. “I’m here enough anyway.”

Shaw swallows, looking Root over before replying. “ _Maybe_  I’ll think about it.”

___________\ We’ll Find You /__________

 _What kind of prom is this?_  Shaw asks herself, looking around at the gymnasium packed to the brim with students. Some wear long, flowing dresses, and others sport what could barely pass as a shirt. All around, the boys seem stiff, as if they were monkeys forced into a suit three sizes too small. The DJ stands at the far end of the room, playing rap music on full volume. Despite her distaste, many of the seniors seem to be enjoying themselves, dancing and singing along.

“What’s with the long face?” Root asks, disrupting Shaw’s melancholy evaluation.

“Do you  _honestly_  want to be here, Root?” Shaw responds, eyes locking in on Keets as he stands surrounded by a group of jocks. Taking her eyes away from him, she looks at Root, who’s already watching her.

After a moment, she nods, and Shaw laughs. “I never got to go to prom,” Root tells her, and Shaw’s laughter dies out. “It’s kind of nice- being able to go to one now.”

“ _Please_ ,” Shaw says, still amused. “Spare me the sentimental back story.” They stand for a small while, each scanning over the numbers one at a time, and the music transitions from rap to more rhythmic tunes.  _Music you can dance to._

“What do you say we take a little break?” Root asks, not looking at Shaw. Sameen turns her head, reading Root’s slightly distant expression.  _She seems… hesitant_ , Shaw concludes, noting how un-Root like it is.

“What do you mean?”

Root finally turns, her separated countenance fading away. She wears a smirk and dark eyes; Shaw can feel a tingle shoot down her spine. “Come dance with me,” Root says, holding a hand out to her. Shaw feels the need to spit some snide comment back, laugh at the insanity of it at least, but finds that none of that comes to her. Instead, she gives her head a serious shake.

“No,” a slight, bewildered scoff escapes her lips as she looks back out to the crowd of students, feeling a warmth in her cheeks.

“Why not?” Root says with a playful whine. “It’ll be  _fun_. Just us gals having a-”

“I don’t dance,” Shaw spits back shortly, and a humorous fire catches in Root’s eyes.

“Are you  _scared_?” Root teases, leaning in towards Shaw. Shaw feels a smile pull onto her face with the mere idea.

“Me?  _Scared_? Please.”

“I dunno,” Root responds with a smile and a sigh. “Seems kind of  _chicken_ , if you ask me.” Shaw turns to face her, a slight annoyance mounting within her.  _But why?_  She asks herself,  _why annoyance?_ She doesn’t quite know the answer.

“Maybe I  _would_  dance,” she replies, and Root’s eyes brighten. “Just not with you.” Root’s eyes narrow, and a purse comes to her lips.

“Just  _one_  dance?” Root asks, more seriously now than before. Shaw feels her own, joking smile fall.  _Sure, why not,_ she thinks to herself, but doesn’t dare let the words pull through. Even as carefree as they may sound, she can’t let them escape. The same as with her previous annoyance, she can’t quite explain why.  _I just can’t do it._

Shaw, after time deliberating, Shakes her head no once more.

“You  _know_ ,” Root says in a voice that makes Shaw feel a twinge of regret. “I  _never_  got that magical night with the person I liked in high school.” Her voice is aimed for guilt, but Shaw refuses to let something like that get to her in the slightest.

“Was there someone you  _liked_  in high school?” Shaw asks with small bubbles of jealousy in her stomach.

“Not as much as the someone I like  _now_ ,” Root replies, and Shaw can feel the heat on her cheeks transition to burning.

“How is it going?” Harold asks, voice patching through on their ear wigs.

“I  _hate_  prom,” Shaw seethes, grateful inside for the distraction he’s caused.

“I, uh, meant with the numbers.”

“Everything’s under control, Harry,” Root tells him in a chipper voice, looking down at Shaw with doting eyes. Shaw rolls her own, looking away. “They’re all here.”

“Any new information on the girl?” Shaw asks, eyes focused on Jenna. She stands on the far wall in a large, black dress, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. She’s twitchy, finicky, and her fingers cannot seem to stay in place more than a few seconds. As Shaw watches, she sees that the seemingly calm and collected girl is more skittish than expected.

“Nothing,” Harold replies. “Did you manage to blue-jack her phone?”

“Is that even a question?” Root answers with a rhetorical counter, looking down at her own cell. Shaw peers over at it in time to see a conversation going on between Jenna and someone named JB.

Jenna: Hey there.

JB: Hi, what’s up?

Jenna: Can I meet you some place?

JB: Um… my locker in 5?

Jenna looks around the gymnasium, eyes scanning each person. They connect with Shaw’s, but only briefly, and then come back to her phone.

Jenna: Kk ;)

Jenna stows away her phone, but doesn’t move. Again, she watches the crowd of people. She takes out her phone once more. As Root watches, she pulls up a different chat, one with Hanner Keets.

Jenna: Hey, hottie.

“ _Hottie?_ ” Shaw asks with a sick churn in her stomach. “Who  _is_  this chick?” Root shakes her head with uncertainty, eyes glued to the tapped conversation.

Hanner K: Sup

Jenna: Meet me at locker 175 in about 3?

Hanner K: ok

Shaw’s eyes snap over to the last place she’d seen Keets, and makes it just in time to watch him excuse himself from his posse. He walks out the cafeteria door.

“Well,  _great_ ,” Shaw fumes aloud. “Now we have to be- what-  _three_  places at once?”

“Not exactly,” Root replies in a tone that makes Shaw stop to look at her, waiting for her to go on. “Just one place, and  _she’s_  setting them up.”

Shaw looks back to the wall, but only sees an empty space. “I lost eyes on Jenna,” Shaw says to both Harold and Root, and she heads towards the double doors on the wall to their left. Root follows right behind, and they come out to a horribly decorated hallway.

Mismatched, green streamers hang from yellow lockers, and the floor is littered with black confetti. As they walk out, stars strung up on thin strings hit them at eye level. Through the dense jungle of stars, Root and Shaw make out the end of a black dress sliding away down the hall.

Silently and quickly they follow, Shaw growing more annoyed by the silver hangings by the minute. Finally, she can take it no longer, and rips one down that smacks her in the face. It crumples easily in her hand.

“Tin foil,” she mutters, ripping more down as she walks. “ _Classy_.”

They veer off from the decorated hallways, coming to an unlit, and thankfully un-decorated, corridor. Root and Shaw see Jenna close a folding security gate, running down the rest of the hall silently. At the gate, they see her discarded high heels. The women push it out of the way, Shaw swearing silently as its groaning protests echo throughout the halls. Running, Root stops at the second branch off, seeing Jenna crouched beside a dark row of lockers.

“What are you doing?” Root asks in a whisper, and Jenna’s eyes grow wide. She scrambles up to run, trips on the hem of her dress, and falls clumsily to the ground. Root grabs her around the arms, yanking her to her feet, all the while Shaw draws her gun, making sure there is no one in the hallway before returning to Root’s side.

“I won’t ask again,” Root says with a sweet but deadly tone. “What are you  _doing_.”

“I- I owe money,” the girl whimpers, back pressed against the lockers as Root holds her firmly, feet barely touching the ground. “They- they were gonna  _kill_  me!”

“Who?” Root asks, eyes stern and cold. From where Shaw stands, she can’t help but admire how terrifying a force Root is to reckon with.

“I- I don’t know, just these- this king pin that runs where- where I get..”

“Where you get drugs,” Root finishes, and the girl nods vigorously, trying to fight back tears.

“Please, don’t tell my mom!” She wails.

“We have more important things than your  _TV_  privileges,” Root tells her in a level tone. “Why are you telling two people to meet up at a locker that you  _aren’t_  going to?”

“I told them I knew who took their money,” she chokes out. “That nerd from my math class, he- he hacked into their accounts. He- he got all this money from them. They- they were  _pissed_.”

“Is that true, Harold?” Shaw asks, and he types on the other end.

“Jeremy Barns does appear to have come into some money in the last week or two; no apparent job, and his hacking has been into banks before. It’s very possible he took from them without ever knowing the who’s and the what’s.”

“Where does Keet’s fit into all of this?” Shaw asks the girl, coming up close to Root’s side. The girl’s face changes, becoming slightly haughty.

“He’s pretty, but he’s  _dumb_ ,” she tells Shaw, the tremor in her voice fading. “They wanted me there, but I- I didn’t  _want_  to see them, so I decided if I let him go in my place that I wouldn’t-”

“You wouldn’t  _die_ ,” Shaw concludes, and the girl’s eyes widen.

“ _Die_?!” She exclaims. “Who said anything about  _dying_?! They only wanted their money back! If they saw a girl there, I thought they might try to  _hurt_  me! No one would try to mess with a muscular  _jock_!”

“You have  _no_  clue how the real world works,” Shaw tells her, instilling a fear in the girl’s eye. “They’re here to kill all  _three_  of you, they don’t care  _how_  old or strong you are.”

“Where the Hell’s Jenna?” A voice asks from the next hall over, and Root and Shaw look at each other, knowing time has run out.

“Go home,” Root instructs, loosening her grip on Jenna. “Tell your mom what’s happened and why, or else you won’t make it to graduation. Understand?” Jenna nods with large eyes, and Root lets go. The second she does, the girl scrams from the building.

“Do you  _really_  think she is going to confide in her parents?” Harold asks, and Root smiles.

“No, but no one said a ’ _concerned councilor_ ’ couldn’t email her mother.” On the other end of the line, they hear Harold sigh.

“Fine, I’ll do it, just keep the others safe, would you?”

“I’m sure we could do better than that,” Shaw responds, walking towards the hallway from which the voice came.

“How so?”

“We  _could_  get two  _very_  special detectives a lead on a new drug ring,” she offers. Turning the corner, they see the two boys.

“Why do  _you_  care where Jenna is?” Jeremy shoots back, nasally voice filled with rage. “She’s here to meet  _me_! Not you!”

“Oh yeah?” Keets responds egotistically. “Then why did she tell me to meet her here, twerp?”

“She asked to meet with  _me_! I-”

“Excuse me,” Root stalks past Shaw with an authoritative air, coming out of the hall’s darkness to stand before the two teens. Keets looks indifferent, but Jeremy has a terrified air surrounding him. “What are the two of you doing away from the gymnasium?”

“Waiting for someone,” Keets spits back at her angrily.

“Well you can  _wait_  for them in the gym,” Root meets his hostile tone evenly. “Or I can write detention slips for the both of you.” Jeremy scampers off instantly, yelling back to her that he is going. Keets, on the other hand, stays stationary.

“You don’t  _scare_  me, teach,” he says, looking Root up and down. A smirk comes to his face. “I don’t think I’d mind a detention with  _you_  at all.”

“Good, because you won’t be having one with her,” Shaw replies, stepping forward. “You’ll be spending your time with the principal. How does  _that_  sound?” He grumbles under his breath before slinking off, hands stuffed into his suit pockets. Root looks to Shaw with doting eyes, waiting for Keets to be out of ear shot before speaking.

“Hard-ass teacher looks good on you, Sameen,” she says with a suggestive smile. Shaw rolls her eyes, looking past her and down the hall. Her eyes catch on two shadowy figures.

“Root-”

_______________\ Tin Foil Stars /_______________

The shadowy figures descend with speed, no weapons save for large, bulging muscles. They breathe heavily, like oxen, and their size represents the same. Root hears their heavy footsteps and turns just in time to dodge a meaty fist headed her way. The women travel back down the hallways from which they came, not wanting to be boxed in, in such a small space. All the while, the large men continue to follow, eyes set to kill.

They turn down a different corridor, and Shaw sees the large security gate and familiar black shoes. “I have an idea,” Shaw whispers to Root, who gives a microscopic nod in comprehension. Shaw sprints over to the gate, yanking it open. Grabbing Root’s wrist, she pulls her through, running into the large, lit hallway, and she ducks to see through the copious amount of stars dangling like a protective shield with which to hide them. The music is loud, the drums like a heart beat surging throughout the entire building, and the layers of sound block all noise from the corridor. Shaw drops to her stomach, taking Root with her as a large set of legs in work boots surge into the hall. She can see them halting, looking both ways but unable to see anything but stars with their staggering height. Shaw pulls out her handgun, thankful she screwed a silencer onto it earlier, and shoots four times. Each hits a knee cap, and the men go down, loud fall lost in the overwhelming swell of music.

One of the men looks their way, hands clasped to his left knee, face a sickly green. When his eyes connect to Shaw’s, she gives him a small wave with her gun before standing. Root follows her up, smiling as she flips her hair from her face.

“Can you get John here?” Root practically shouts into the earwig. “We have a gift for him.”

“ _What_?” Harold yells back, hearing nothing but loud music through the phone. Suddenly, the sounds die out, and she is able to patch through.

“Detective Riley has two men who need a ride,” Root tells him, hearing their agonized swears as she walks back to the gymnasium.

“I’ll let him know,” Harold replies, a smile hinting in his words. “Are the two of you headed back?”

“Y-”

“We’ll be there in a little,” Shaw cuts Root off, much to Root’s surprise. Shaw looks over at her before continuing. “Just tying up some loose ends.” The line goes dead at that, and Root gives her a confused look.

“What loose ends? Everything’s taken care of.”

“Mostly,” Shaw agrees, only deepening the question in Root’s eyes. A song picks up from within the gym, something modern but slow. Shaw can feel an unstable flight in her stomach, and she fears it shows on the outside. She can feel her eyes looking anywhere but Root, trying to figure out how to do this. Balling up her courage- something that usually came easy to her now like pulling teeth- she lets out a steadying breath as the lyrics start.

_‘Oh no, did I get too close? Oh, did I almost see?’_

“Sam, are you o-” She stops when Shaw grabs her hand, then walks back through the double doors. Shaw closes her eyes a moment, collecting herself. “What are you  _doing_?” Root asks, having trouble keeping up with Shaw’s accelerated pace. She tries to focus on the words of the song, anything to keep her calm, but finds it nearly impossible. She stops walking abruptly, and Root bumps into her. Root looks at her as she turns, waiting for some sort of explanation.

“You said you wanted a dance, right?” Shaw asks, slightly defensive. “Well, here’s the only one. Take it or leave it.” Root smiles at the flustered tone in Shaw’s voice.

“I’ll take it.” Shaw uncoils- but only slightly. Root tries in vain to mask her excitement, and she comes closer to Shaw, who stands numbly. All around them, couples sway back and forth, paying no mind to anyone else. _They make it seem so easy,_  Shaw seethes, wanting nothing more than to melt them with her angered stares.

Her attention is drawn sharply away from them as she feels a set of arms drape over her shoulders, and she looks back to Root. Shaw looks at her brown eyes and hair- everything cast in shadow with the darkness of the room- and feels another tingle snake down her back. Shaw sees her fidgety smile- as if she is trying to control it from growing on her face. Letting out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, Shaw brings her hands around Root’s waist. The smile breaks free, unable to be held back any longer, and Shaw gives a small smile herself, watching as Root’s illuminates her entire face. Shaw tries to think of anything to say, but her brain seems to have suddenly taken an impromptu vacation.

Root leans the side of her head at Shaw’s temple, sparing her the need for words. Shaw stands, muscles slowly loosening as they rock back and forth in a lazy circle. Shaw can feel a shift against her temple, and knows that Root is smiling.

“What’s so funny?” Shaw asks, concealing the underlying dread she suddenly feels.

“Nothing’s  _funny_  Sam, I’m just.. happy. This is nice.” Shaw feels a smile creep to her face.

“If all proms let me shoot people, I might’ve chaperoned more often.” Root gives a small laugh, but it fades away quickly, and they fall back on silence. _But what is there to say?_  Shaw thinks, closing her eyes. She lets the music surround her, and pulls Root in.

_‘And there is no fear now, let go and just be free. 'Cause I will love you, unconditionally.“_


End file.
